Turnabout Crossover
Chapter 9: Cornered
Phone rings. She answers. Another blonde or brunette or redheaded bombshell on the other line asks if her boss remembers the other night or weekend or week they spent under the moonlight or on the beach or on a private jet or in the Himalayas. She respectfully tells them otherwise and quietly hangs up before the other party answers, then makes a mental note to block the number from the company phone registrar just in case they try again.
This is just one moment in the life of Virginia "Pepper" Potts.
At least, that's how it used to happen. For the past few months her employer has become increasingly more distant to everyone including her, and has always stayed locked up in his penthouse-slash-office on the top floor of Stark Tower. He has also become more secretive, and sometimes she finds him working late into the night and early into the morning researching things she didn't quite understand and working with devices she didn't quite know how to describe.
He told her about it one day, about how he was a superhero and that he wasn't of this world, and the complicated mess that he and a couple of "friends" found themselves in after an event that he kept on referring to as a "world merger" or some other sort. She laughed, naturally, at the joke. Then he showed her the armory hidden beneath his penthouse, and she laughed no more. Well, she fainted first, and it was only after waking up on the sofa next to Tony, who was watching reruns of The Walking Dead while eating a box of Krispy Kreme donuts, did she stop laughing. She started asking, and the questions came pouring out of her mouth like lava out of Mount Vesuvius.
Now here she was, conducting her job as secretary to the CEO of Stark Industries while secretly keeping tab of news reports regarding some unknown individuals fighting giant robots over the George Washington Bridge on the giant, 115 inch plasma TV by the door of her office.
To everyone else, that statement would have been downright silly, or at least, made no sense whatsoever. Especially the 115 inch plasma TV. Not to Pepper though, at least, not anymore. And she longed for the days when it was okay for her to think that superheroes, giant robots and bigger than standard plasma television screens were simply fantasy.
"He said that it should be kept secret," she told herself quietly. "He said that no one should know about them, that they weren't going to do anything that would compromise the secret that they exist and now here are his friends fighting giant robots over the Hudson."
"Excuse me, ma'am, but the design planner wanted to know which wallpaper you wanted," said a man wearing what looked like a bright yellow jumpsuit to shield his shirt from paint. Despite that, there were already several sploshes on his clean, white shirt. "Excuse me, Miss Potts?"
"Oh, yes, right?" Pepper spoke with a start. She had her eyes glued onto the TV the whole time. "Excuse me, what were we talking about?"
"Wallpapers, ma'am," replied the man, who then turned to face the screen. "Ah, yeah. I actually heard about there being supermen here in the Big Apple a few months back. I thought they were just rumors, of course."
"Supermen?"
"Yeah," said the man. "You know, with super powers. Like in those comic books, but I'm sure you don't read those. Anyway, some say they're aliens or some other sort, but me, I think they're superheroes. My brother, he's with the police, says that some of the criminals they catch keep mumbling about some sort of masked men brandishing swords and stuff. Like ninjas, y'know. A lot of the others though, keep mentioning a guy that can crawl up walls and stuff, like some sort of bug."
"Superheroes, really?" asked Pepper. "Well, these criminals are clearly delusional. They were probably just on some sort of drug binge, or maybe they were just drunk. You know how these low-lives are. You seriously don't think superheroes exist, do you?"
"That's what my brother said, too. But seriously, every criminal in New York for the past few months having the same delusion can't be some sort of coincidence if that's what you're getting on about. Besides," continued the man as he pointed at the screen, "now that we're seeing them on live TV, there's no way to deny it now. Superheroes are in New York."
Just then, the door behind Pepper's desk swung open. Another man with a moustache and in a similar outfit came out and called the man by Pepper's desk.
"Hey, Eddie, we need that wallpaper color now," shouted the hairy-lipped man.
Inside the lobby, several workers were paving the floors and replacing busted windows, while quite a number of them were cleaning up scraps of metal and concrete from the floor boards, sweeping them up in large, industrial bins. What looked to be the remains of a vending machine was lying next to where the bottom half of a set of stairs leading to the penthouse on the top floor used to be.
"Oh, right, just a sec," shouted Eddie back. "Yeah, ma'am about the, uh—"
"Anything you have that's periwinkle would do nicely. Thank you."
"Periwinkle? Didn't think Mr. Stark would pick a color like that, if you don't mind me saying," remarked Eddie. "Anyway, if it's not much of a bother, can I ask why the room there has been blown sky high?"
Pepper paused to inhale as the news showed a man dressed in the colors of the American flag pummeling three to four Sentinels in quick succession, while a giant, green, rage monster runs to his aid. "I picked periwinkle," answered Pepper. "And the explosion… it was a gas leak."
"Gas leak? A lot more than that lobby would have been destroyed if that was because of a gas leak. A lot more."
Pepper sighed, and the man proceeded to enter the room in the back.
She tried to go back to work, but there really wasn't much you could focus on when the idea that somewhere your boss is blasting killer robots left and right into kingdom come keeps popping in your head. And he had a full schedule of appointments that day, too, the bulk of which has been canceled due to the much more pressing matter of saving the world. Of course, their clients didn't know that, and their disappointment could hardly be contained in the strongly worded letters they had been sending to the Office of the CEO that morning.
Only a single appointment remained though, one that was made just a few moments ago after everything else had been canceled. Pepper sat at her desk, while a blonde woman wearing a pristine white coat and boots sat waiting on the sofa, reading the fashion magazines that were stashed on the rack stationed by the front office door.
Jen Walters had told her to look after the woman, whose name had slipped Pepper's mind but had something to do with Ice or Cold or Freezing or something similar. Perhaps she had ice powers? Probably. They all had powers, Pepper found out, and the ones who didn't don't look any different from everyone else.
"Excuse me, Miss… Freeze? I was just wondering. Do you—"
"It's Frost, dear," answered the blonde woman without turning away from her magazine. "Emma Frost. You're wondering if I have ice powers or something similar, but I don't, and yes, Frost is my real name. Tony has told you about our world, the one I came from, and yes, there are superpowered beings there, and no, Tony isn't just making this entire story up, as you've already seen his friends. Yes, this is what he deals with on a daily basis; yes, all of this is really happening; no, he probably will survive whatever ordeal he's in and so will his teammates. He's not alone, you know. Yes, I am answering all your questions in advance, and no, as much as I'm ashamed to admit it, this is not designer lipstick I am wearing. But it is periwinkle, so I guess that's what caught your eye."
Emma turned to look at her, and then laughed.
"What am I saying? I know that's what caught your eye."
"I… I… But how…? How did—"
"Well haven't you realized, dear?" asked the blonde-haired woman as she returned to reading last month's copy of Cosmopolitan. "I can read minds. That's my mutant ability. I'm a telepath. Of course, you already know what mutants are since Tony has explained everything to you. I hope you don't mind that I took a trip through your… well, mind. Wonderful place, nothing malicious or ill about it."
"Why… well, uhmm... well, thank you. I think."
"You're welcome. Now, would you be a dear and tell me about Jean? Yes, I could just read your mind, but that would hardly be ethical. And I would appreciate the conversation."
"Jean?" asked Pepper. "Oh, Miss Grey. Well, what about her?"
"Perhaps for starters, do you know much about how everyone reacted when they first saw her?"
"Reacted? Well, why would anyone react to her being seen, pray tell?"
"Well, simply put she's dead, dear. At least, she's supposed to be."
"Excuse me?"
"Ah, but we must cut this conversation short," remarked Emma, as she stood up and replaced the magazine back on the rack by the door. "It seems you have a visitor. Five of them, actually, but only one matters."
There was a knock on the door. Hard but firm.
"Would you want to do the explaining?" asked Emma, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or would you let me? On second thought, perhaps I should do it. I've been expecting this, after all, since it's what I'm here for. Yes, I actually have been told to expect this, but I would have seen it coming a mile away anyway."
The knocks came louder and louder, until all of sudden they stopped. And as soon as they did, the door slammed open, breaking one of the hinges. Four men in black suits started filing in one by one, and stood in a four-point formation in front of Pepper's desk.
Another man, a rather well-built, dark-skinned man then followed suit and stood in the middle of the formation, with his hands behind his back. He wore a large, black overcoat over a black sweater, black military pants and black boots. His most prominent trait however was the large, black eyepatch that covered his left eye.
"Miss Potts," spoke the man in the middle. "Sorry to break in all of a sudden, but an urgent matter has come to our attention and we need to brief you on what you know. I'm Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D."
There was a sharp, ringing sensation in his ears. He couldn't make himself hear what was happening around him. As he struggled to stand up, a searing pain in his chest ravaged his concentration, and with his sight reduced, everything around him was a blur.
All he could remember was a fire.
There was a fire around him. A large conflagration crowding the middle of the street, burning bright and hot even under the heavy pouring of rain. He was wet, and cold, and hurt. Badly hurt.
A sharp, stabbing pain then came knocking at the back of his head. All of a sudden, he felt himself being tossed about. He felt himself being knocked back by a hard blow to chest, launching him through the air, stopping only when he felt his back slamming into a mishmash of bricks and concrete, stopping him in mid-flight.
He looked up, and everything was still in a blurry haze. He could taste the blood forming a lump in his mouth, and he ripped the bottom half of his mask to spit it out. He then lifted his head up to the sky to wash his bloody orifice. His mouth felt bitter. His face felt numb. And yet he could feel the rain through the mask covering his face, and found it cold and uncaring.
There wasn't anything to celebrate about. Mindless Ones have taken center stage in Midtown New York, and Sentinels are taking over the George Washington Bridge. If anyone was taking score, the heroes were losing and if they lost, so would the whole world. This wasn't a fairy tale, there wasn't going to be a happy ending—not without sacrifice, at least.
And sacrifice was something that he knew best.
So as cars were tossed left and right, and a giant fire blazed on in the middle of a flooded street, Spider-Man urged himself to keep fighting. Of course, most would say it was pointless: these were Mindless Ones after all, and nothing short of anyone of Thor's level had the ability to stop one of them, much less take down a whole group of them.
They were unstoppable engines of destruction that could wipe out anything in their path, and anyone short of an Asgardian, or a Sorcerer Supreme, or a green, rage monster, or a man in powered armor taking them on would be tantamount to suicide. Their primary purpose, first and foremost, was to level any opposition in the realms that the Dark One wished to exploit, and demolish everything and everyone that stood against him.
Which is why Spider-Man was wondering to himself, as he dodged under giant fists and jumped over eye beams, while simultaneously trying to ignore the savage throbbing of the freshly opened wound in his chest, why Dormammu would have his most powerful minions run errands.
"Hey, webhead! Focus!" he heard a voice shout. It was quickly followed by the sound of gunshots firing rapidly. "Dammit. Hey! Don't die on me! If you die, who the hell is going to proofread my 1984 fanfic if you freaking die on me?"
He wiped the lenses of his mask and saw what seemed to be faint shadows moving in unison. Giant, eight foot tall shadows visible through the fire, all of them moving farther away from him. A bright light started engulfing everything, and all of a sudden it was dark again. As the rain grew stronger, the fire in the middle of the mess of three vans, two trucks, a Porsche, two Fords and a Lamborghini started to die.
And suddenly he could see clearly. He struggled to stand up and in doing so, saw the devastation around him. And what's worse was that the Mindless Ones were starting to leave through a dark void that had materialized in the middle of the intersection, carrying whatever they had come to take from them. Near the monsters, he could see a masked figure opening fire on them, with the behemoths uncaringly shrugging every bullet shot.
He struggled to walk forward, and the sharp, searing throbbing in his chest grew stronger and more painful with every step he took. He was going to stop them. Whatever happens, whatever it took he was going to stop them.
His limped walking turned into running, and in the split-second that followed he was sprinting towards the monsters. He shot a webline at the back of the Mindless One in the rear and propelled himself towards the behemoth.
Fingers numb. Head aching. Loss of consciousness imminent, he thought. But I can't let them leave. I won't let them leave. Not until they give back what they took from me.
He delivered the monster a double-booted kick to the face—while thanking his lucky stars that they weren't Faceless Ones—knocking it sideways. Leaping upwards, he then proceeded to shoot a webline by the monster's feet, and pulled himself downwards, launching himself towards his staggered opponent.
A beam of red energy that came from one of the other Mindless Ones then blasted him out of the air, just as he was about to deliver another blow towards his downed opponent. Another one of the Mindless Ones then caught him by his head as he flew back and smashed his face on the wet concrete below them. Blood continued to run from his mouth and his forehead.
"Dammit! What the hell?" he heard a voice shout. Several shots then rang out in quick succession. The voice then sounded closer, and each word it spoke was punctuated by heavy breathing. "Are you okay, man? Stay with me, pal. Stay with me."
The voice began to fade as his thoughts began to falter. It felt like the voice was coming from some place far away, out in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. He felt himself growing out of touch with everything around him as his senses were turning dull.
I couldn't stop them.
The pain in his chest started to grow more intense, but his expression failed to change. It was as if he had gotten used to the pain. Or was it because he couldn't feel it anymore? Blood continued to seep from the now gaping wound in his chest into his shirt.
Whatever they needed those for... I should have… I should have been able to—
He started to close his eyes. He could still feel someone grabbing hold of him, albeit faintly, shaking him. Begging him to stay awake.
"Keep it together, Pete," cried the voice. "C'mon, man. Keep it together. Stay with me, man. C'mon, for your pal, Wade."
I can't let it end like this. I won't… I… It's… Why is it so dark?
He looked around him and like a flash of lightning in the horizon, he quickly found himself in a dark space devoid of light.
"Why are you telling me all this?" asked Phoenix, as he gripped an iron pipe firmly in his hands.
His clean, white shirt had turned into a wet, muddy mess that had several tears and scrapes, and there was small cut on his lower lip. The cuffs of his pants were badly torn as well, while the leather of his shoes has started to recede from being drenched in rainwater.
"Because you're one of three keys to unlocking the treachery that exists behind the world merger," said the young woman clad in a drenched, purple coat. "Believe me, Mr. Wright, when I tell you that you are a crucial part of keeping the cosmic order."
"You know what that sounds like?" asked a bewildered Maya, as she shook off her drenched shirt as it clung to her chest. "It sounds like a bad comic book plot. I mean, it doesn't make sense at all. Nick a key to saving the universe?Puh-leeze."
With them, a puzzled Tron voiced out her concern of where the real Maya was, and whoever the impostor was that was with them now. All the while holding a large, sci-fi looking rifle the size of a cannon that spewed out some sort of weird bolt of lightning with every pull of the trigger.
"This is pretty surprising Maya," remarked Tron in disbelief. "Wasn't the reason that you got yourself into this mess in the first place was because you were deluded into playing superhero? You can't possibly tell me that you're over your childish fantasies."
"First of all, ouch," replied the spirit channeler. "You cut it in pretty deep there, Tronnie."
"Oh, uh, sorry," apologized Tron sheepishly.
"You shouldn't be," said Phoenix. "Because someone had to say it eventually."
Maya cleared her throat.
"Secondly," she continued. "This is Nick we're talking about here. Sure, the whole excitement of being in a world where superheroes exist got into my head but now that I've thought about it—"
"—you've realized how silly and unreasonable you were being," Phoenix cut in deeper, "about wanting to be a superhero, and about not taking the ordeal we're in seriously."
"Not to mention immature," added Tron. "Seriously, Maya, you're older than I am."
"She's twenty years old and yet she still acts like she's ten," said Phoenix. "But besides, immaturity is par for the course with Maya."
"Hey! That's not nice," cried Maya, puffing her cheeks. "And the only reason I'm saying this is because I am taking this whole thing seriously now. Can't you tell?"
Both her companions responded with a resonating "No."
"But I am," insisted Maya. "I swear to Celestia, I am."
"Celestia?" asked Phoenix.
"Alicorn princess. Long story, I'll tell you later," explained Tron.
"I am, really. And if I wasn't dragged into this mess—"
"You weren't dragged, you barged your way into this," corrected Tron.
"—barged into this mess, I wouldn't realize that," cried Maya. She then turned to Phoenix and said, "Nick, you can't possibly believe this. I know you. You've got your feet firmly planted on the ground. To even believe a word of you being some sort of cosmic key to unraveling the mysteries of the cosmos is nothing short of cosmic-level crazy. Just talking about it makes it sound cosmic-level crazy."
Phoenix looked into Maya's eyes and saw the honest reflection of doubt and worry in them.
Of course, she was right for a change. Phoenix doesn't believe one word of what was said to him, about being a crucial part of some greater machination that would allow the universe, no, all of reality to keep spinning for a while longer. Whatever they called it: his fate, his destiny, his purpose in the cosmic web, all that rubbish, he wouldn't have any of it.
He kept telling himself that he was just a defense attorney through and through, and although he can't deny—and has already calmly accepted the fact—that he was actually in another world where superheroes and giant monsters exist, that he would believe that he had an important part to play in the insanity of it all was another wholly unrelated story. And yet—
"Besides," added Maya, as she turned her head towards the woman whose irises looked as if they were a dark shade of purple, despite no way in hell they would be anything normal, "why would you believe that what she said was true? For all we know, she could be one of the bad guys."
Why did Phoenix listen to what she said?
Did it have something to do with how she was able to lift the Nemesis up with some sort of purple energy and smash it into a wall? Was it because she knew all four of them by name when they bumped into her in that rain drenched alleyway? Was it because her irises were rectangular, and were a shade of dark purple?
Or was it because, deep inside, Phoenix knew that she knew more than what she was letting on?
"How do you even know all this?" Phoenix asked her calmly, despite knowing that he probably won't receive a straight answer.
"All of your queries will be answered when we reach the Tower," she responded quite cryptically. She sounded like the Sphinx, whatever the Sphinx would have sounded like when it asked travelers its famous riddle. "For now, you are in no position to be asking questions. That creature could still be stalking us, for all we know. I would have been able to destroy it if only my abilities could be handled by this fragile world, but it could not."
"Why is this world fragile, and why are we even here?" asked Phoenix once more.
"All of your queries will be—"
"No, don't give me that crap!" cried Phoenix, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. Her eyes started to glow eerily, and a strange purple aura started to emanate from her body, but Phoenix wasn't having any of that. For once he wanted to get a straight answer.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wright," she apologized. "But now is not the time. The walls have ears, you know. In this derelict place, where light fails even to make a small glimmer to oppose the mind numbing darkness of the abyss, where hope is seemingly lost and where the trust of allies are constantly being tested and forged, in this derelict place where darkness prevails, the walls have ears. He listens and he waits."
"Who listens and waits?" asked a perplexed Phoenix.
"Is it Dormammu?" asked Tron in a similarly bewildered manner.
"You know of the Dark One?" asked the young woman, pleasantly surprised. Her expression stayed changed for about half a second before it reverted back to her usual poker face. She shook her head. "No, it is not him. It is a being of a much greater power, one who can humble even the Dread Dormammu. An ancient evil who has threatened this realm countless times, and who has now erected a plot that would be able to topple not only this realm but the entirety of reality, as impossible that may seem. This being is not a force to be trifled with, and the only reason why the Caretaker of the Multiverse has tasked me with overseeing that his plans do not come into fruition is because I have a personal stake in this."
"A personal stake?" asked her three companions. "But you're still not answering who he is."
"Yes, a personal stake. He has deceived my father into becoming an unwilling pawn in his plans and so I have presented myself to the Caretaker of the Multiverse in order to save my father," she said further. "This being, his name has been known to strike a lingering fear in the hearts of those who know it, and in the wake of his carnage, songs that sing of the destruction of worlds have been sung by the hollow voices of those who await their demise, or worse, those who shall soon be enslaved by his dark veil of anguish and despair."
Her voice started to falter, and a small whimper could be heard escaping from her lips.
"I dare not speak his name, for the walls have ears, and with each passing moment his name is spoken by the followers of the Old Ones, his power grows and his patience wears thin," she continued. "Simply know this, Mr. Wright: you are one of three keys to preventing the end times. I do not know how or why, but it is written in the old scriptures and books of the cosmic beings whose omniscience are anything but boundless. This being, He Who Sleeps But Shall Soon Awake, The Withering Devourer, The Unclosing Eye, when he comes, this world shall sing songs of the end times, and with it all of reality shall sing songs of its doom, and nothing even the most powerful of beings, not even The One Above All can do anything about it."
There was a sudden calming silence that endured afterwards, with only the sound of raindrops falling breaking the quietness of that dark, decrepit alleyway.
A storm had come, and the rain seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Phoenix didn't even mind the cold now, as he leaned on the wet, concrete walls that lined the backstreets of that urban jungle. He just wanted to go home, refresh his thoughts and keep himself from driving himself insane with how vast and limitless the universe is, and that no matter how much humanity tries to understand it and traverse the outer reaches of it, there will always be an infinite number of goalposts it'll have to surpass just to be able to receive the next objective.
A lost cause, if you will call it that.
Maya and Tron weren't any less thoughtful about it, and all three of them were glad that at least Chun-Li was spared the brain racking ordeal that they had forced upon themselves. The Interpol agent had sat to the side, her stamina slowly being drained as her injuries had begun to sap the last reserves of strength that she had left. She had been trying to contact help for the past half hour now, and for some reason that could only be blamed on how much the universe loved to screw with its inhabitants, she couldn't get a signal.
"Sorry for asking," said Tron afterwards, after a long pause that seemed to span millennia.
"It is alright," said the woman acceptingly. "I just wanted you to understand that this predicament is not for the faint of heart. This is not your standard hero versus villain conflict, and by all means, I'm not even sure if this is the right way of approaching it. But what I know is that I cannot face this alone, not without sacrifice, and not without your help. Help from all of you."
It was then that it had struck Phoenix, as lightning cut through the sky. There was a reason to everything after all, a reason behind every decision made and every incident instigated. There are no accidents, so to speak, because even accidents do not happen without reason. They may not be intended reasons, but they are reasons nonetheless.
"So it's you, isn't it?" asked Phoenix, with a smile on his face.
"What do you mean it's her, Nick?" asked a confused Maya.
"The reason why we're here," explained Phoenix towards his two companions. "The reason why we… 'cross over' was the term, correct? The reason why we cross over, it's because of you, whoever you are."
The young woman smiled. "Right, Mr. Wright."
"The bad guys," continued Phoenix, "Doom, Wesker, Dormammu, they're not here on their own merit. They're here because of that being you're opposing, whoever that is. They're just pawns being used in a game of cosmic chess, and so are we. You're using us."
She shook her head, still smiling. "Wrong, Mr. Wright. I've read the books and the scriptures, spent days and weeks of my time trying to understand each and every intervening strand in the web of fate and conflict. It was never my choice to make, never was and never had been. Even my decision to attempt to preserve reality for the selfish reason of saving my father was only made to seem like my decision, yet in the end I never really had a choice."
"And neither do we, huh?" asked Tron, condescendingly.
"So we work our behinds off trying to save the universe and the entirety of realities while the higher-ups just sit on theirs watching us jump around," asked Maya irritably. "How is that fair?"
"It is not, but there is nothing I can do. They don't have a will like humans do, they do not have goals nor do they have priorities. They do not have their own reasons for wanting to exist. They're just there. Phenomenal cosmic powers, the ability to shape the fate of entire universes and dimensions, wasted by the inability to act on their own free will. There is such a thing as a downside to knowing and being able to do everything."
"Do we even have free will?" asked Phoenix. "You said you read the books and scriptures, you know how every strand connects. If the future is already written in stone, if the future has already been cast in iron, then why should we bother? It's like watching a movie when you know how it's going to end."
"No, it is not," she answered back. "It is like watching a movie when you know it is going to end. Which is every movie ever made. Nothing lasts forever. The possible outcomes of every decision every human has ever made are written in the strands of a web Mr. Wright, not etched on stone, and they do not form a straight line. Do you have any idea how many strands intersect, and intervene, and cut through one another? Omniscience gives you the ability to know how everything might turn out, not how exactly they're going to turn out. Written in the books are every single possible outcome of this venture, and you can only imagine, no, even you might not be able to fathom, how many of those there are. The strands are being woven as we speak, and no one, not even the One Above All, knows how exactly everything will turn out."
"Wait," said Tron, "weren't you just saying a while ago that you didn't even have a choice in all this, and now you're saying that the decisions to be made are to be made by us, and that we do have a choice in the matter."
"It hurts so much to think," cried Maya.
"The nature of the universe at work," she remarked. "You do make the choice, but the choices are pre-rendered. Of course there are billions of choices to be made, if not an infinite number. And of course, infinity is limited in itself."
So that was it, wasn't it? Just a confusing, out-of-touch conversation on the nature of life, the universe, and everything. Phoenix can't help but think if there was a way to put them out of their misery.
"You're being overly cryptic," he told her.
"But I am only saying what is true," she explained to him. "There is more to be said, and for the time being, those are to be disclosed only when the time is right."
"Then won't you tell us your name? Tell us at least that. You saved us, and we're grateful for that, but we can't trust you if we don't even know who you are," asked Phoenix.
The young woman then bit her lip, as if to ponder whatever good thing would come of her telling her name. And then—
"Gabrielle Lilac Talbot," she told them condescendingly.
"Is… that your real name?" asked Phoenix.
"…No, it is not. You shall know of my true name when we reach the Tower," she said bluntly, and Phoenix gave up.
"That's too long for a fake name," remarked Maya. "How about we call you Gali instead? The first two syllables of Gabrielle and Lilac make Gali. Fun, isn't it? Making up names, I mean. I call Nick Sonic sometimes myself. You know, like the hedgehog. Because he has hedgehog hair, you see."
"Maya," sighed Phoenix. "Why do you insist on explaining your jokes?"
"At least it's better than your 'Why am I, Phoenix Wright, am never wrong?' routine," countered Maya.
"Shut up! We promised never to speak of that," cried Phoenix.
"I can't help if it I'm better at making jokes than you," replied Maya. "Right, Gali?"
The young woman who would for now be known as Gali looked pleasantly surprised. She nodded and smiled. Perhaps for the first time that day.
Tony Stark was a skeptic in a world where he interacted regularly with magic users, gods, people who were somehow able to survive being trapped in ice, and people who were either part demon, or made contracts with demons, and for some reason the ones who made contracts with demons looked possibly more demonic than the ones who were part demon. It was something that bothered him a lot, but that wasn't what was important at the moment.
What was important at the moment was that the black Chinook he was trailing that was carrying one of the most dangerous men in the world had disappeared without a trace, as he was blinded by a mysterious beam of light that had suddenly come out of nowhere.
The next thing he knew, he was the only thing in the sky, besides a family of geese who should know better than to fly in a rainstorm.
"What the hell just happened?" asked Tony aloud, bewildered. "What the hell just happened?"
"Should I run diagnostics, sir?" asked JARVIS. "You seem to be spazzing out, if you would forgive the term."
"Now is not the time for wisecracks, JARVIS," said Tony irritated. "Run a scan of the area. Check for anything, magical or technological, any trace of where they could be and how they could just suddenly disappear in thin air and out of sight of my radars."
"Scan complete," said JARVIS almost immediately. "That is strange."
"What is?" asked Tony. "Would you mind letting me take a look, buddy?"
"The anomaly seems to be of a demonic nature, sir," explained JARVIS, as results of the analysis popped into the interface screen in Tony's helmet. "There are faint traces of mystic energy of an unknown source, and the physical manifestation of the area has shifted significantly, rendering the possibility of a portal being opened here highly probable."
"Scan the area and make a note of that energy signature," ordered Tony. "We'll run an analysis of it back home to see if it matches any of our previous encounters with portals and gateways. If Wesker has somehow found a way to manipulate gateways to his advantage, we'll have an even harder time of tracking his whereabouts."
Just then, the sound of a phone ringing suddenly drowned out the noise of rainfall.
"A call for you, sir," spoke JARVIS. "Should I patch it through?"
"Patch it through JARVIS."
The voice came through the helmet's speakers as clear and loud as daylight. Not that daylight could be heard, but, anyway—
"Mr. Stark, Dante here," spoke the voice. It sounded more out of breath than Deadpool that one time he ran all the way to the nearest Taco Bell branch when he heard they were selling chimicherrychangas for a limited time offer. That was after his scooter broke after he threw it at a heckler on the street. "You're not going to believe this, but the A.I.M. troops—"
"—suddenly disappeared while you were blinded by a sudden burst of light?"
"Yeah," agreed Dante, not in the least bit surprised that Tony finished his sentence. There has been more than one instance of that happening, more than enough for him to get used to. "But there's one other thing: whatever kind of magic trick that was, it was demonic in nature. Some form of high level demonic temporal shifting."
"JARVIS and I have already come to that conclusion," said Stark. "Whatever it is, we have to—wait, how did you know?"
"Half-demon, remember?"
"Yeah, but about it being a high caliber mystic mumbo jumbo?"
"When Jean once asked us to organize the books in your library, I found this Arcane Arts book that was filed in the wrong section," explained the demon hunter. "It had a section on demonology and demon magicks. I could detect one kind of demonic energy that I've read in the book emanating from the place as soon as the A.I.M. convoy disappeared, but the rain washed off the scent before I could find out exactly what could have made it. But whatever it was, it was powerful."
"Well, don't worry about it," reassured Tony. "JARVIS got the signature before it could dissipate. We'll run an analysis back at the Tower to see if it matches any other energy form we've encountered."
"Sir, incoming transmission," spoke JARVIS suddenly.
"Another one?" asked Tony. "Patch it through JARVIS."
"—to all points. Deadpool to all points. Can anyone read me? Over."
Chun-Li couldn't believe her ears.
She was ecstatic at first, since for the past half hour she tried every possible network she could manage and yet she couldn't patch a connection with any of their allies. None of the four of them could, but then all of a sudden a transmission came through from Deadpool that was being sent to all points, and they all heard it, but none of them could respond.
"Deadpool to all points. Deadpool to all—"
"Chun-Li here. Deadpool, can you hear me?"
"—to all points. D-Deadpool to all points. Can anyone read me? Over."
"Mr. Wright," cried Chun-Li towards her companions, "they can't hear us."
Phoenix , Maya and Tron then tried their communicators, but to their disappointment Deadpool still continued call out if anyone was receiving his transmission. No one could hear them, but for some reason they were able to receive that transmission. Something was jamming their signal.
Then Tony came onto the line.
"Iron Man here, reading you loud and clear. Your transmission is being sent somewhere some 500 yards from the Tower. What happened?"
"Mindless Ones happened, Shellhead. We were… we were en route to the tower when we were ambushed by Mindless Ones. Webhead and me held them back while… Chun-Li and company escaped through one… one of… one of the alleyways with the Nemesis on their tail. We haven't had contact with them since."
Tony's voice then suddenly turned slightly frantic.
"Where are they? Where's Peter and why isn't he the one reporting this to me?"
Chun-Li held her breath. There was something ominous with the way Tony asked the question, as if he was already assuming the worst. But there was no reason for her to think that, right?
"Peter…"
Deadpool's voice had cracked, and there was a slight trembling in his words, with the way he enunciated the word Peter. Deadpool's voice cracked. Deadpool's voice cracked. It was enough to drive someone crazy, thinking about whatever horrible, terrifyingly inhuman thing had happened to make Deadpool lose his cool and for his voice to break.
And sure enough, it was something Chun-Li would never want to hear. Not in a million years. She knew sacrifice. It was something that all of them knew best. But there were a few things she would never want to part with, even if it meant she would put the fate of the universe teetering on the edge of the abyss.
"Spider-Man is down. I-I repeat, Spider-Man is down. Requesting immediate extraction. I don't mean to pressure you, moneybags, but we're going to need immediate fucking extraction now. I-I'm not sure how long he's going to last."
Tears formed a puddle in her eyes as she broke down crying.
And for the longest time, everyone was silent. They weren't sure if everyone was hearing this. They weren't sure if Cap and the others were hearing it, because if he did, he probably would have broken into a shitstorm of bad language. And you wouldn't want to see Captain America angry. You would never like him angry.
Tony too, simply because he wasn't really averse to anger, but at that time he didn't sound angry. He was just there, hovering in mid-air on the other line, not sure how to react.
Deadpool made sure he knew how.
"Don't you fucking hang up on me. Don't you fucking hang up on me. Talk for God's sake. The man is dying, if that wasn't already clear to you. Goddamit, Tony!"
"Alright… alright. I-I'll... We'll—shit. Dante, are you still there?"
And the demon hunter, who had been silently listening the whole time, spoke. If this was some other transmission, he probably would have exchanged insults with Deadpool on the other line as soon as he heard his voice. Why didn't he, this time?
Maybe he knew already. Maybe he could sense it in his voice.
No one could say.
"Still here. I know. Just give me the coordinates and—"
"No. You go after Chun-Li and the others. For some reason they aren't responding. For all we know they could be in serious trouble themselves. I'm tracking down their coordinates through their communicators, and I'll send the information to your phone."
"But I—"
"You have your orders. Follow them. Deadpool, stay where you are. I'm coming after you, so keep him alive as long as you can. If he... if he dies on your watch, you'll be answering to me."
End transmission.
Phoenix walked towards Chun-Li, as she buried her face in her hands, and knelt beside her. He wanted to say that everything was going to be okay, that she didn't have to worry. That everything was going to be fine, but he couldn't.
He wasn't sure what the right thing to say was. He wasn't sure if there was anything that could properly be called the right thing to say.
But someone else did.
"He's not going to die," said the young woman who was to be temporarily known as Gali.
"How do you know that?" asked Chun-Li, with her face still buried in her hands. "Y-You don't know that, so p-please, if this is—"
Gali put one hand on Chun-Li's shoulder and repeated her words more clearly.
"Peter Parker will not die, I assure you," she continued.
Everyone turned to her, as if she had done something so amazing that no one has ever been able to pull it off. Their reaction was equivalent to seeing a diver jump from a jet into a swimming pool while doing a high-altitude, triple barrel roll. There simply was no other way to describe it. Chun-Li lifted her head up and looked her in the eyes, as tears streamed down from her own. There was no emotion in Gali's eyes, no feelings. There was no remorse, no fear, no pity. There was nothing in her eyes.
Nothing but the truth, it would seem. And some sort of warmth that emanated even through the cold sheet of rain.
"Why do you… How do you know him?" asked Chun-Li, teary-eyed.
Gali knelt in front of her and wiped the tears from her face. And for the second time that day, Gali smiled.
"Peter Parker is the second key to unlocking the treachery behind the world merger and saving the multiverse," she answered, smiling. "I assure you, he will not be dealt with so easily."
Just then, her eyes started to glow an eerie shade of purple, and the smile disappeared from her face, just as suddenly as it had appeared.
"The enemy is upon us."
And just as suddenly, the wall behind them burst open, as a behemoth clad in a black leather coat carrying a rocket launcher roared an unholy guttural growl. Chun-Li and Phoenix were easily tossed to the side, as Maya ran towards them. Meanwhile, Tron raised her weapon and started blasting the creature as it charged toward her. A purple aura started enveloping the Nemesis as it drew closer to Tron Bonne, and like a rag doll the monster was swiftly tossed towards the hole from where it had broke out from.
Gali walked towards the dazed creature as it staggered to stand, and pointed an open palm towards it. Her hand glowed with an awesome power.
"You will bother these people no more, monster," she spoke menacingly. "Your path ends here."
At this point, if this was a fairy tale, the whole scenario would have ended on a merry note, with the heroes escaping with their lives and with the monster losing his, and everybody would live happily ever after. If this was a horror movie, the monster would be able to horribly mutilate each and every one of them, with some sort of final girl having a final confrontation with the beast before either escaping with heavy casualties or dying herself. Film logic dictates that that person would be Phoenix, if this were the case.
Of course, it was neither. They were all firmly in reality, and reality was firmly trying to screw them over.
So as Gali pointed her palm at the Nemesis, ready to blast the behemoth to kingdom come, the purple energy emanating from her hands started to flicker, and for the first time that day, a look of absolute horror appeared on her face.
As she was left in a daze, the Nemesis was able to regain its momentum and in one, swift blow, the creature delivered a powerful backhand that sent her flying towards a nearby lamppost, denting it.
Maya quickly ran to her as she staggered to her feet.
"Gali! Gali, are you alright?" asked Maya, as she slung Gali's arm over her shoulder. The purple-eyed woman struggled to stand up as Maya propped her up on her shoulders. Tron ran towards them, tossing her weapon to the side, and assisted Maya in supporting their new ally. And friend.
To their left, Phoenix was carrying an injured Chun-Li in his arms.
"We need to get out here!" cried Phoenix, as the Nemesis winded up for another attack. It then charged towards them like a mad bull, flailing its tentacles wildly in their direction. There was no escape. He was too close now, and any sudden movement at the moment would only prove to be a futile attempts to evade what could not be escaped.
Just then, a bright light appeared out of nowhere, blinding them in its radiance. A scream pierced the skies, and as suddenly as it had happened, just as suddenly darkness swallowed that decrepit, forlorn, rain drenched alley once more.
Maya was now scattered on the muddy, concrete floor, while Gali leaned on the lamppost where she took a devastating blow just a few feet northward, wincing. Phoenix was tossed to the side. His right ear was now bleeding from being hit on the head sideways, and Chun-Li was draped on top of him, conscious, but hurt. Badly hurt.
The rain grew stronger, as Tron Bonne and the Nemesis were suddenly nowhere to be found. The storm had come.
There was no reason for Peter Parker to not believe in hell. He was friends with a half-demon after all, although he wasn't sure if he was that kind of demon. Then there were those who he knew derived their powers from demons like Ghost Rider or the Hood, who were very much reminiscent of hell. Hell, Wolverine had been to the place once, and he even toppled the Devil, or so he says. Bottom line is that there was no reason for Peter Parker not to believe in hell.
But as he walked in that dark void of a place, if it could be called a place at all, as he wasn't sure what it was since it was as black as night in there, if ever he was in someplace… anyway, as he walked in wherever he was, he couldn't help but wonder if he was in hell.
Of course, he was expecting the kind of fire and brimstone hell that pop culture had told him was what hell actually looked like. Somehow, it hasn't occurred to him to question himself on whether he was actually dead, and why he would go to hell when he died. It seems that everything had escalated so suddenly and events had happened so fast that he hasn't had time to think at all.
Then in the darkness, as was customary, there was shimmering light shining bright just within his field of vision. He started to run towards it, believing it to be some beacon of hope in this mind racking darkness.
But a lesson needs to be learned here, and what better lesson should be more appropriate than one from the fable of the moth who went too close to the light of a lamp and burned? Light does not always equate to good, as darkness does not always equate to evil. Sometimes the darkness was good, the light was bad.
And this particular light was particularly evil.
"Are you enjoying your stay?" asked the flame-headed being at the end of whatever pathway he had been traversing through for what felt like hours.
"…Dormammu," remarked Peter, in a voice that concentrated so much venom in one word that it could kill a human being on contact. "It is you."
"I don't think I've ever had the honor of meeting you formally," spoke the Dark One, smirking. "And I doubt that you have ever been graced by the presence of one as grand as that of the Dread Dormammu."
"Where am I?" demanded Peter. "What is this place?"
The Black One unleashed a bellowing laugh that could shatter bones.
"How rude of me," he remarked. "Where are my manners? The Dread Dormammu simply must not forget to make his guests comfortable."
"Where am I?" demanded Peter once more.
"Welcome to the Dark Dimesion… Peter Parker."
End of Chapter 9
"Did you die, Daddy?" she suddenly asked him when he finished.
"Did I what?" he asked her, completely deadpan.
"You died, didn't you?" she asked him once more, tears forming in her eyes. Her lips started to tremble. "My poor, poor Daddy, dying before his time. How can the world be so cruel?"
"Uh, Trucy…"
"Don't worry Daddy, I'll avenge your death," she then cried defiantly, raising her fist up towards the ceiling. "That monster is going to pay for your death, Daddy. I'll make sure of it. I'm going to make him disappear and he's never coming back!"
He suddenly glanced at the clock on the table in the middle of her tirade, and saw the time. It was three in the morning.
"What the—it's been that long?" he exclaimed.
She, in turn, suddenly stopped her rant and looked at the time herself.
"Trucy, it's way past your bedtime."
"But, but," she objected. "But I want to avenge my daddy. I want to know what happened next."
"Maybe some other time, kiddo," he told her, and he switched off the light of the lamp on top of her bedside table. He reached over to the right of the desk and turned on a night light in the shape of the Steel Samurai. "I promise, I'll tell you another time."
"Promise me, okay?" she told him from under the sheets. "Promise me you'll tell me. And that you didn't actually die. Promise me, okay, Daddy?"
"Promise," he told her, and kissed her on the forehead. "Night, Trucy."
"Nighty night," she replied, closing her eyes. "Nighty night, Daddy."
He walked towards the door and took one last look at her. He held the doorknob, his hands trembling as a single tear was shed from his eyes, and he shut the door behind him.
END OF ACT I
